#nervous crowley | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rcreveal · 3 months

Text

Feathers and Snakeskin

Summary:

Crowley calls Nina urgently for help with movie night. We find out why he's so nervous about this particular movie night. January 2024 prompt a week challenge: 1) Jane Austen, 2) “you're up to something” 3) Crowley's snake, 4) how you said I love you with something you (had) made

Work Text:

“Nina, come watch these movie trailers with me!” Crowley said urgently through the cell connection.

Nina stares at the line of the morning rush with her cell to her ear and a look of disbelief on her face, “You called me with the EXCEPTIONALLY URGENT setting because you want me to watch what with you?”

“Movie trailers. I desperately need your help with movie night! Nina, please! You're my only hope!” begs Crowley.

Nina looks at the phone and at the crowd, shakes the phone a little, sighs hugely at the ceiling, and relents, “Fine, I'll be right there.”

Addressing the customers, “Oi! Either it's the end of the world or my friend's having a mental breakdown,” in the crescendo of coffee deficient despair she holds up her hands, “Eric's got this. Be nice or he won't make cookies this week!” This was met with instant polite silence. The crowd couldn't decide what was worse, being cut off from Nina's coffee or Eric's baking.

On the way out the door, Mrs. Sandwich leans into Nina, “Take care of Crowley, he's been looking off his feed lately. Won't tell me what's going on.”

Nina hurries over to the bookshop, and enters it only to find Aziraphale sitting quietly doing what looks like calligraphy at his desk while Muriel is reading.

Nina looks from one to the other and asks “Where's Crowley?”

“Not here, Nina. He went out on an errand this morning. Are you alright?” inquires Aziraphale.

“Fine. I'm fine, just needed a word, in person, with Crowley. See you for movie night later?” Nina tries to cover while walking rapidly out the door.

Once she's out of angelic earshot, she whispers into her mobile, “Why didn't you tell me you weren't at the shop! Where are you?”

“Little distracted. I'm at that movie rental place. I'll share my location with you,”

Nina's phone chimes. Her map app directs her to a video rental shop. ‘We still have one of those?’ she thinks and starts walking. “What's with all the cloak and dagger? Are you ok?”

“I'm ok. Nnnngh, not ok. Physically safe, but not ok? Is that a thing? I needed complete secrecy,” says Crowley.

“For movie trailers? You're up to something!” Nina is talking while walking through the neighborhood until she finds a familiar old storefront, ‘Kathy’s Movie Rental Emporium.’

Opening the door is like stepping into her past. There are floor to ceiling DVDs and VHS tapes, separated into movie categories with handwritten signs in Kathy’s clear hand. The shop is made of little nooks and crannies packed with movies with little sign posts on some of the shelves with directions to the different genres.

Nina had spent so much time in this shop when she was a teen. She’d been searching for a community she couldn’t name and didn’t even know if it existed or not. In Kathy’s shelves, she found windows onto other worlds, worlds where there were people like her who loved like she did and got to have the life they dreamed about. This shop had been a bright spot in an otherwise difficult series of years. She hadn’t seen the store front in ages.

“Nina, is that you, dear?” Kathy, at her usual station behind the till, is more spare now, but still sports the sharply fashionable clothes and architect’s round frames with a bob that's gone silver with age. “Yeah, Kathy, yeah, it's so good to see you! I'm sorry, I thought you'd gone out of business when streaming got big. I walked by a few times…” Nina looks bemused, then rallies, “A friend of mine is here? Crowley, chap about this tall, wears mostly black?”

Kathy comes out from behind the counter and beckons Nina to follow her behind the stacks, down a narrow corridor lined with classic movie posters. “It’s so good you came over! He's in the private theater. Needs a little help.” Kathy knocks gently on a door under red velvet curtains and gold braid.

“Cooee! Crowley? Nina's come down,” Kathy calls and opens the door.

The little private theater is big enough for about twenty people and a screen, with a little stage that Nina recalled had also hosted some fledgling cinematographers and their works. Now, it contains one agitated Crowley and drifts of huge black feathers. Nina looks from Crowley to Kathy and whispers “If I'm not out in an hour, come knock?”

Kathy's face creases into a warm smile, “Just so, dear.”

Nina turns back to Crowley saying, “What’s going on? Where’d all these feathers come from?”

Crowley continues pacing, saying, “I’m molting.”

Nina looks at him askance, “You molt?”

Dipping his head side to side, Crowley says, “I molt when I’m nervous.”

“You didn’t molt during the Second Coming,” Nina points out.

Rubbing his neck like it itches, he says, “I wasn’t nervous during the Second Coming. I was many things, but I was not nervous .”

Hands on hips still watching Crowley pace, Nina says, “Ok, you molt when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous?”

“I want movie night to be perfect this week! I want to pick the perfect movie! And I can’t see!”

Nina walks over to him quickly now, “Of course you can’t see in here, you’ve got sunglasses on!”

“I’ve got sunglasses on because of why I can’t see! I’m shedding, too,” Crowley takes off his glasses to expose eyes that are covered with a cloudy bluish-white film and rubs his chest while uncomfortably moving his neck. Nina is strongly reminded of her childhood pet corn snake when he was about to shed, all tetchy and restless.

“You shed. Like a snake?”

“I only shed when I’m really nervous. And I can’t do it in this form, but I can’t see to get home. And I’ll only keep nervously molting and shedding, until I get this movie picked out! And itchy!” grumbles Crowley.

“Ri-ight. You’re nervous about picking out a movie for our regular weekly movie night that we’ve been doing for almost two years like clockwork. And you can’t watch the trailers now because you can’t see. O-kay” Nina decides to tackle the more manageable problem first. “What movies are you choosing between?”

Pacing and scratching, Crowley says, “‘Emma’ the new 2020 version, ‘Ella Enchanted’, uh and ‘The Princess Bride’.”

“I assume that you wouldn’t be this nervous if you weren’t trying to impress Mr. Fell somehow? And these are all fluffy love stories, with twists and turns before people recognize they love each other, then happy endings. Mmm, drop ‘Ella Enchanted.’ Everyone loves Anne Hathaway, but I don’t know about the fairy tale thing.”

Crowley interjects, “‘The Princess Bride’ is one of his favorites! He talks along with all the lines.”

Nina considers, “It’s a reliable good time, but has he seen that production of ‘Emma’?”

“Don’t think so,” Crowley tugs at his collar.

“Have you?” Nina asks curiously.

“Not yet!” Crowley said exasperatedly, “The movie lady, Kathy, suggested it and I was getting ready to screen it back here, when, eyes!” he gestures angrily at his face.

“‘Emma’ then, Kathy’s a magic worker when it comes to picking the most perfect movie for you to see next,” remarks Nina decisively, “I liked that one. Stellar cast, good music, usual Jane Austen antics, remarkable costumes. Yeah, Mr Fell would enjoy it.”

But Crowley is directing a dubious look in her general direction, “You watch Jane Austen films?”

Nina pulls a face then grudgingly admits, “I may have discovered a new appreciation for them since Mr Fell made us watch that ‘Pride and Prejudice’ production back when movie night began. But don’t change the subject, that’s your movie sorted. Now, do I just fetch the Bentley and take you home or to Mr Fell’s?”

“It, uh, really can’t wait that long,” Crowley sounds a little embarrassed.

“What? You’re going to turn into a snake right here so you can shed?”

“Yessss, that about ssssumsss it up. Sssssorry.”

They’re both startled by a soft knock on the door.

“Sorry, dears, it took me a little to find it in the back of the storerooms, but I think this will do nicely for you,” Kathy wheels in a large structure of intertwining wooden roots, rough and nobbly. “Some of my naga clients have had the same thing happen to them now and then.”

“I’m not a naga,” grumps Crowley.

“Well, no, dear. Tho’ you’re handsome enough to be one and you need to shed your snake skin like one! Take all the time you need.” Kathy remarks brightly as Crowley pulls the structure further into the room, not entirely surprised to have run into another occultly attuned human.

Nina suddenly puts some very random facts together. “Kathy, do you know my grandmother, by any chance?” asks Nina.

“Of course, dear, Alvita and I go back a long way,” says Kathy.

“What’s your user name in the Book Club server then?” asks Nina.

“Why it’s ‘MovieMama’! And you must be ‘Coffeehuman’, am I right?” Kathy remarks delightedly.

“Pleassssse, ladiessss! Sssssome privassssssssy?” Crowley begs.

“Sure, sure, let me know when you’re done and I’ll help you tidy the theater,” Nina closes the door behind herself and hangs the ‘In use’ sign, shaking her head.

Pointing her thumb over her shoulder, Nina asks, “How long does this sort of thing usually take?”

“Oh, about an hour or so, but he’ll be really stunning when he’s done! The colors are never brighter than right after a shed. Would you like a sandwich while we wait?” Kathy heads up to the front of the shop again.

Nina is gazing around, “I never got a chance to tell you how important this shop, how important you were when I was figuring out about myself. I came back to the neighborhood looking for your shop, but I couldn’t find it.”

Kathy looks gently at Nina, “Thank you, dear, it was a pleasure. I got called away for a bit. But it’s lovely to be spending some time in Soho again.”

“So it wasn’t just me being mental, or you closing shop? The whole place was gone?”

“Only gone from here. I was open in one of my other locations. My Book Club user name was originally going to be ‘MultiverseMovieMama’ but it just took too long to type,” Kathy grins at Nina.

“So, I haven’t been able to find that film about the group of friends at the cottage on the coast because it’s not from this world?”

“Yes. I’ve still got the copy. Would you like to watch it now?”

“Would I ever! It’s hilarious!” Nina exclaimed.

Crowley did come out in about two hours looking rather spiffy, if you fancied men. Nina was just glad to see that he looked human and calmer. She went into the theater with some large plastic trash bags, “I’ll get the feathers, but the snakeskin is all you.”

“Fair,” said Crowley, unwrapping twenty or so feet of fresh snakeskin from the wooden sculpture and gently putting it into another plastic bag.

While they worked, Nina asks, “What’s making you so nervous that you’re shedding and molting? I can’t believe you’re driving yourself crazy about just a movie?”

Finding feathers that have gotten into surprising places, Crowley replies, “I need to talk to Aziraphale and I’m hoping the movie will help me, maybe get him in the right mood.”

“Get him in the right mood for what? You don’t need a rom-com to make him realize he loves you. You’ve already done that.” Nina stares hard at him with her head to the side, then the penny drops, “You’re not going to propose to Mr Fell?” She surveys Crowley’s sudden stillness, “You’re going to propose to Mr Fell!!! Why!??”

“See, I knew you’d understand,” he smiles ruefully.

“Understand what? You don’t need to get married! You can be 100% committed to each other and faithful, why would you want all that silly ceremony? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Mr Fell would be over the moon!” which sets off a sappy smile on Crowley’s face, “But you can’t want…why?” and Nina suddenly doesn’t look like she’s talking about just Crowly and Aziraphale’s relationship.

Crowley flops down on a theater seat with his bag of feathers in his lap and Nina sits down next to him, hands playing with a long black pinion feather that just escaped.

“The past two years have been amazing, remarkable, more happiness than I would have thought I deserved. But, everything still feels up in the air, not locked down, somehow. I want to show Aziraphale that I will make the most binding contract I know of to say I never want to leave. Even if I get angry or he does, I’ll do the work necessary to stay an ‘us’.” Crowley looks over at Nina hoping she understands, but she’s turned a bit away from him and her voice sounds a little choked when she asks, “You want to show him or you want him to show you? You’re still worried that he’ll leave again, aren’t you?”

Crowley scrubs his face with his hands, “Nailed it again, Nina,” he says ruefully.

“But why do you want any relationship advice from me? The last time Maggie and I gave you relationship advice about talking to Mr Fell…” Nina breaks off.

“Trust me, Nina, the advice was good. I just carried it out badly,” admits Crowley softly.

Nina turns back to him, and smiles a little tremulously. “That's what marriage means to you? A commitment to never stop trying to be the best partners you can be? Whether he or you needs supporting or to be called out?”

“Yeah,” says Crowley.

“And you think you can tell him that, too?” asks Nina.

“Yeah,” says Crowley.

Nina nods decisively, “Right then, you’ve got my blessing or whatever.”

Crowley looks surprised, “Your blessing?”

“Or whatever, I assume that's what you were needing? A marriage skeptic to kick you in the arse?”

Staring at her again, Crowley slowly grins, “Yeah, something like that. Thanks for coming over. If you'll just help me get these bags of feathers out to the Bentley for safekeeping? I've got a few more errands to run before tonight.”

Aziraphale looked up when the doorbell tinkled, and the breath caught in his throat. Crowley stood framed with the light falling on him from the shop windows with his hair iridescently red. Azriaphale was taken again by the line of his jaw, the lithe energy in his frame. A single black feather materialized and drifted gently to the floor.

Crowley was likewise arrested by the sight of Aziraphale with the light somehow igniting the dust motes into a literal halo about his head. Caught by the look of wonder in his eyes, his quiet strength, and in the way he seemed so comfortable in himself. The ink was still wet on a heavy piece of cardstock covered with the angel’s best copperplate.

“I brought a movie for movie night.” Crowley said, “And Coca-cola’s for the rum and cokes. Proper glass bottles, “ Crowley held up the bottles as evidence.

Aziraphale stood at his desk, “Everyone’s given their regrets. Last minute things, couldn’t be avoided. It’s just you and me tonight,” Aziraphale’s hand reaches down to twirl his ring as he steps forward to take the cardboard crate of glass bottles from Crowley’s hand, the light sparkling in the glass and illuminating the deep sepia beverage within. Rather than going all the way to the kitchen, or even breaking eye contact with Crowley, he just reaches back to set it on whatever flat surface is available.

“It’s rather fortuitous actually,” Aziraphale continues, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk with you about.”

“Yeah, uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk with you about, too,” Crowley stammers and another ebony feather materializes as it drifts towards the floor.

“Oh, well, you first, dear boy, last time we both wanted to talk at the same time…I should have let you say your piece,” Aziraphale's eyes well up with tears at the memory.

“I’ve learned that I can stand to listen better. Go ahead, Angel,” Crowley says softly.

Aziraphale is spinning his ring now and biting his lip, “We’ve been courting for almost two years now, and it’s glorious, really it is.” Crowley has leaned back to grasp the shop door behind him for support.

“I just always thought it would be a…a temporary phase,” the angel says haltingly.

“Temporary…?” Crowley croaks.

“Yes, like before we…well, you’ll think I’m silly,” Aziraphale looks away.

“Before we?” Crowley, breathing again, stands up from where he was leaning against the door and catches the angel’s hand in his.

“Before we…got married. See! I knew you’d think I’m just an old silly!” and the angel tries to pull away, but Crowley tugs him back, saying softly,

“I think I should have my go now, alright?” smiling gently while reaching into his jacket, Crowley pulls out a small jewelry box. “I love you, a lot. And I want to be with you, trying to be the best ‘us’ we can be, good times, hard times, both. And I would like…for you… to marry me.”

“You’re asking me? You’re asking me?!” Aziraphale sounds astonished.

“Angel, if you don’t give me your answer right now, I swear…Don’t you want…?” doubt is creeping back into the corners of his voice.

“Want to marry you? Of course , I want to marry you! I’ve wanted to marry you for the past two years! I thought you didn’t care for all that ceremony, and,”

But Crowley is kissing him, and Aziraphale is heartily kissing him back and they’re both crying, by the time they breathlessly break off from kissing with Aziraphale’s, “Oh!”

Aziraphale starts patting all over his coat and vest, mumbling, “Drat! Where has it gotten to!” and he finally sighs and slips his hand into the breast pocket of his vest, pulling out a small leather pouch that’s been resting over his heart for more than a year.

“I had this made for you, in case we ever did, get married officially.” Aziraphale spills a ring into his palm, a black band with gold inlay to form interlocking wings.

Kissing Aziraphale’s temple gently, Crowley says, “I love it, Angel. Here's mine for you,” and Crowley opens the jewelry box that contains a gold ring sporting fine engraving that creates the look of a DaVinci sketch of intertwining dark feathers and light.

“Oh! It’s very like your friend’s drawings! Well done!” Aziraphale remarks.

Solicitously picking up the few feathers that have fallen to the floor, Aziraphale asks, “Is this why you’ve been molting, dear? I wondered what was bothering you so.”

“Yeah, ‘fraid so. What have you been doing with the feathers?”

“Oh, I just stuff them in the eiderdown with mine, or use them as quills. I've, uh, been mocking up wedding invitations, um, using our feathers for quills,” says Aziraphale.

Crowley looks at the drying invitation on the desk, eyebrows raised, “How many invitations have you done?”

“Oh several dozen, they're in my trousseau with the complimenting monogrammed handkerchiefs!” the angel burbles nervously.

“A trousseau?! I look forward to seeing that…especially the garters,” Crowley grins mischievously.

Crowley looks over his shoulder at the coffee shop where all their friends are glued to the windows trying to see their exchange.

Aziraphale follows his gaze, “Shall we let them in on the good news?” then opens the door behind Crowley and sweeps him out onto the step where the angel bellows, “I SAID YES!” and then tugs Crowley into a jog across the street. They tumble hand in hand into the coffee shop into a cacophony of hugging, crying, laughing people. Their friends are jumping up and down, and everyone is either hugging someone or clamoring to hear all about the proposal, before they move the party over to Kathy's shop to watch ‘Emma.’